


I'll Carry You

by TheArtOfBlossoming



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Major Character Injury, Post-Canon, Swearing, Synths (Humans)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 03:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtOfBlossoming/pseuds/TheArtOfBlossoming
Summary: A spin-off story, set after the main events of' Vincent, Redefined'.The Institute is long-gone, thanks to the Coalition between the Brotherhood and the Minutemen. The Railroad were a casualty of war. The Institute may be gone but someone hasn't forgotten them...





	1. A Dark in the Light

**A Dark in the Light ******

_It has been several years since the destruction of The Institute and the tragedy of the Railroad. The Brotherhood of Steel that relocated to the Commonwealth have splintered away from their origin and formed an alliance with the Minutemen. The nucleus of this change: Sentinel-General Vincent 'Nate' Hudson, the 'Man out of Time' and his circle of companions now deal with the daily tasks of reviving peace. For Vin and his closest companion, family life has become their world…. until that peace is threatened._

An exquisite fire ran down Vincent's throat, mingling with the bittersweet traces of cigar smoke. They had had a good fall, the rad-storms had been few and far between, crops flourished and the hunting was good. Those who helped, thrived. Those who harmed met harsh consequences. There weren't many Raiders these days, especially not this far north. The daily battles of his first year back had dwindled down to weekly patrols, then fortnightly, then monthly. Now, the Sentinel-General and his partner, the Paladin-Major had essentially stood down from active duty, save to advise and support where needed.

They spent their time mostly raising their two boys, Shaun and Duncan. Both were brown haired, though Shaun's had a gleam of auburn; both brown-eyed and pale skinned, they were sometimes assumed to be twins by visiting strangers who hadn't watched the one boy grow whilst the other remained unchanged. Right now, they should both be asleep and Duncan certainly would be. Shaun, however, never really slept. Oh, he pretended to. He'd close his eyes and slow his breathing and let his mind wander for hours. Sometimes, he'd lose track of time passing and forget where he was but it was a false slumber. Synths never truly sleep, nor do they really age, so whilst Vin was enjoying his whiskey and Mac was wrapped up in the world of Eloi and Morlocks, Shaun was wrestling with a mental and emotional puberty that his manufactured body wasn't equipped to handle. 

Suddenly, all over Sanctuary, the dim lights went out.

Mac dropped his book and ran out to the porch. Vin was already reaching up to extract a weapon from the ruined wall. "Hold," Vincent whispered to his love. Not the kind of whispering Mac was hoping for before sleep tonight… The thought was almost instantly replaced with a professional state of alert, making his words to the boy who suddenly appeared at the door a little too clipped. 

"Shaun, go inside. Stay with Duncan."

Two other faces appeared farther down the street but backed away at Vin's signal. They crept together, spaced out and ready for anything, to the Reactor building. Mac checked his six and spotted Sturges pulling on his shirt with one hand, toolbox in the other. He motioned for the mechanic to wait.

There was no sign of anyone. Nothing. The terminal had been hacked and shut down; no mean feat since Valentine had been the one to set up security. The main wires to the globular generator had all been cut. The only lights to reach out across the little island were candles, sheltered fire barrels and the trader's campfire. Vin could just see a flicker of light on the floor behind the fusion reactor, at odds with the green Pip-boy glow. Something made him realise that the light couldn't be coming from outside. He crouched low and crept around to the left. What he saw made him shudder icily.

A blacked-out lantern stood on the floor, a mockery of a railsign scratched into the paint. Eight starburst lines with a diamond at the centre.

"What does it mean?" MacCready muttered, startling Vin.

"I don't know. This is new." Vincent felt a cold, heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. Someone was trying to get his attention, to play on the guilt he still felt for doing what had to be done. The long shadow of the past had just got darker.

* * * It was well after sundown when Mac and Vin arrived in Goodneighbor. It took a little persuading but MacCready pointed out that they wanted to give the impression of a friendly visit. One shot of whiskey for Vin and a Whitechapel Charlie special for Mac and they were good to go. They took their time, nursing their drinks, winking at Magnolia, avoiding conversing with anyone by nuzzling and kissing each other whenever people got too close. Well, that bit wasn't just for show, though they both hid the parental guilt and anxiety they felt for leaving the boys behind. This job could take some time, though Danse was more than happy to keep an eye on Shaun and Duncan.

They eventually got up and headed to the Memory Den. Irma met them at the door.

"I believe you are not entirely welcome here, darlings. Ama's still in a foul mood. I'm not entirely happy myself."

Vincent may have saved the Commonwealth but he hadn't managed to save their best client, Kent Connolly. More than that, he'd obliterated Dr. Amari's Railroad career. Vin didn't know if she had friends there or, indeed, knew any of the faces that haunted his dreams. He had no idea how personally she had taken the unavoidable destruction of the Railroad.

"Irma, we're not here for the memory booths."

"You never are, exactly."

"This is official business. Someone left a message at Sanctuary. A strange Railsign."

Irma's face paled. "No. She'll have none of it, you know. You can't just come barging in here and threaten to dig up those painful memories!" MacCready stepped forward, taking the woman's elbow, which she indignantly yanked from his grasp.

"C'mon, Irma, this isn't personal. People could be at serious risk and the doc's our best shot at figuring this out. If Vin…I mean, if the Sentinel-General thinks that a blacked-out lantern and a shiny diamond scribble are important, then you bet he has a whole lotta people behind him."

"MacCready…." Vin winced, but Irma's expression had turned to fear and she opened the door wider for them.

"Quickly, in there." She gestured to Kent's old room, the Silver Shroud memorabilia looked untouched yet not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere. Vincent stood quietly, stoically enduring these forced reminders of his failures.

A moment later and Amari appeared. "Did you ever have a geiger counter?"

Mac started to ask 'What kind of weird question is that?' but Vin interrupted him with "Mine is….was….in the shop." 

At that, Doctor Amari looked on the verge of tears. "How could you…no," she quickly pulled herself together. "Nevermind that now. A black lantern, you say? With this symbol on it?" she asked as she drew on a scrap of paper and held it up before them. Eight lines radiated out from a diamond in the centre. Vin nodded. "My god…. He's back," the doctor swept her black hair from her eyes and sat down with careful dignity. "Several years ago, one of our… one of the agents rescued a damaged Gen3. He refused to tell us his designated number, instead - unusually - calling himself Gene. We healed him up, put him through the usual mindwipe process and tried to rename him but, despite having cleared his memories successfully, the name was so deeply imprinted that he would accept no other. Des took drastic measures and ordered a full sex change, changing their name's spelling to 'Jean'."

"All seemed to go smoothly from there. Jean was moved out of the Commonwealth to the Capital Wasteland and became a provisioner. The Railroad stopped watching her. A few months later, we heard stories of a secret synth society, emancipated from the Institute but still believing themselves to be 'an improvement upon the human condition'. They did not have the numbers nor any real militant force. What they did have, they learned Underground. Some said that the Switchboard disaster was related to this group but those agents that were sent to investigate always hit dead ends…or their own ends. A large proportion of those deaths was not by humanoid hand but by Supermutant or even Deathclaw. On the very few occasions they made themselves known, it was by the presence of a blackened lantern with that symbol. Once, and once only, with the demise of a very experienced agent, was a note left. All it said was NuMan. 

Jean disappeared that same night, one witness swore it was a Courser retrieval but it was never confirmed. What was discovered, however, was an eight-rayed brand on her Brahmin. They were called 'Diamond'. Now please, that is all I know." She was looking intently at the floor as she added, "See yourselves out."

"Appreciate it, Amari. I've one last request though. You keep records of…of the packages, right?"

"I _did_. I mean, yes, I still have them. Why?"

"What if this 'Jean' made it out of the Institute a second time? They'd be processed again, right? Would the name stick again or maybe some other discrepancy show up?"

"Yes, yes you're right. I never encountered the name again but from time to time we had what we call 'wrinkles', inexplicable data glitches, usually nothing more than, say, a deja-vú or a word displacement." At Mac's puzzled expression, she embellished: "Saying 'spade' when you mean 'spoon'. Everyone does it but it is usually seen happening more frequently in neurological degradation. Old age, senility or after serious injury."

Mac mouthed a silent 'Oh' and shifted his weight toward the door. Vin noticed the subtle hint. 

"Thankyou. How long…?"

"Give me three days. I've nothing else to do at the moment, thanks to the Brotherhood."

Vincent nodded and withdrew. 

The two men sat down on a bench outside the Third Rail. Mac pulled a notepad from his pack and Vin handed him a pen. "Did you get all that?" 

"Yeah, unless you distract me too much." MacCready's memory was excellent. He'd impressed Vin by reciting whole pages from his favourite books, overheard conversations from the previous day and even a snippet of the play he tried to direct at Little Lamplight (snorting Nuka Cherry out of his nose when Vin referred to it as 'Something and Frisbee'). Ham emerged from his shift, saw Mac writing furiously and commented "So what, we startin' a night school now, RJ?" Mac ignored him and finished abruptly. "Got it. Let's get outta here."

* * * Next stop, Diamond City. Vincent and MacCready were relieved to be back at Homeplate. They'd only brought the boys here once, as travelling was still more dangerous than it had been back in Vin's childhood, even with the city in the state that it was back then. Mac tripped on a toy car but Vin caught him in a strong arm. Their laughter broke free, banishing the recent tension. Mac flopped down on the as-new sofa, grabbing a magazine from the stand, whilst Vin headed straight for the kitchen. 

Before long, the aroma of grilled radstag filled the room. Vin brought the plates through to the lounge. Steamed carrots, roasted tatos and perfectly done meat. Mac's mouth watered, his stomach grumbling in anticipation. He was getting soft, he thought to himself. Home comforts had become the norm whilst the life of fighting for his very survival on a daily basis had faded to an ocassional, brief necessity. He didn't exactly miss it but this life of comfy sofas and homecooked meals, served up by a handsome, muscular man… okay. He was comfortable with this.

Vin saw those thoughts fleeting impressions on Mac's face. "Everything alright?" Mac had already stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth by the time Vin had finished speaking, so he just nodded and smiled around bulging cheeks.

They ate their meal in comfortable silence. Vin finished first, discarding his plate to the floor and turning to cup MacCready's cheek in his large palm. Mac glanced at him sideways and swallowed. The warm, savoury scent of Vincent's hand stirred a different appetite. He abandoned the last mouthful and drew close for the inevitable kiss, except that he just had to open his big, stupid mouth first, just before their facial hairs tangled. "You _dessert_ ing me, Vin?" This threw Vincent, the bad pun confusing him for a moment, just enough to postpone the kiss. His puzzled brow melted into an 'I can't believe you just said that' kind of grin. "Kiss me, you dolt, don't kill me with your bad jokes." Vincent took a sheepish MacCready gently in his embrace, his breath warm and deliciously savoury, the light stubble of his chiselled jaw softly tickling Vincent's fingertips. They leaned close, moving slowly, dreamily, their bellies sated, their lips casually hungry now for each other. 

Loved, needed, protected, desired; Vin's kiss conjured all these in MacCready's being. Mac kicked the floored plate with his boot, Vin's knee almost caused a beer-crime. Mac twisted around, gently spinning Vin onto his back, pinning him with a cheeky, lusty half-smile on his face. The kisses became faster, harder, more desperate. Vin nuzzled into MacCready's soft, warm neck. Mac's fingers combed through Vincent's floppy auburn hair. The sound of belts being fumbled was interrupted by a pounding on the blue door. Vin pulled away with a sigh. He ran fingers through his tousled mop and shouted "One moment!" with an apologetic eyebrow shrug. 

No-one ever knocked on the door. Despite the city pad being as centrally located as was possible to get, people respected their privacy. Usually.

"Who the f..ungal infection is that," Mac said crossly. He'd been desperate for some quality together time, away from demanding boys, settlers, soldiers. He re-threaded his belt, making out a female voice past the jangling metal buckle.

It was Ellie. Apparently Nick had asked a few folks to keep an eye out for the Sentinel-General. She seemed concerned. Mac walked over. "I'm just going over to the agency, " Vin informed him.

"Can't I help?" Mac was becoming increasingly disgruntled. He hated being alone. 

Vin looked as if he was about to say no but he knew MacCready better than that. "Sure. We may be leaving DC soon."

That was not what Mac wanted to hear. He'd fight tooth and nail to get a decent night's sleep before that. Well, he'd whine and wheedle til Vin gave in, anyway. A childish tactic but it worked well, when not overused. 

They grabbed their gear and headed out to the Valentine Detective Agency.

* * * A blackened lantern on the desk was the first thing Vin saw. Mac lingered in the doorway, letting the dim evening light in. "Come in or wait outside, sniper boy but close the door." Mac frowned at Nick's condescending tone. It wasn't that they weren't friends - they'd each defend the other with their lives - but they seemed most comfortable in each others' presence when they could banter and tease. Vin was just amused by this generally, though this time, something in Nick's tone made him feel uneasy. The detective sat stock-still, resting his chin on hands clasped together in the mock gun pose that kids use. 

Mac closed the door and they were plunged into darkness. Only the amber glow of Nick's lidded eyes and the slices of illumination escaping from the lantern could be detected at first.

"Look closer, partner," Valentine said to Vin.

The projected, stretched out diamond light on the desk seemed fuzzy at the centre, until Vincent took up a magnifying glass. There were letters and numbers there: 'NuMan 2///9/3/6//5//'

"What is that, a lock combination?" Vin asked. 

Nick shook his head. "I don't think so. There's no pointer to any kind of container. Not co-ordinates, not a Vault reference, slashes must be significant somehow….Hate to admit it but this one has me stumped. Gimme time, though."

MacCready had found a spot to perch on and was squinting at the message. He took out a stub of pencil and grabbed a Bugle from a shelf and began scribbling in its margins whilst Vin and Valentine debated the possible meanings. They both started as Mac suddenly yelled "Bingo!" The two detectives stared at him. "Put a light on, Ellie, please," Mac asked. "Back when I was growing up in Little Lamplight," he explained, "we had this half of a book called 'somethin' somethin' a Private Eye.' It had a nearly intact page with a code game. See, you match the letters of the alphabet up to the number grid one through nine but that makes almost three rows, right? So if the slashes are how many columns down the letter is and the number represents the row, then we get something we recognise." MacCready paused here, relishing knowing the answer to the riddle before the two actual detectives had figured it out. Vin just raised an eyebrow whilst Nick tapped his metal fingers on the desk in an irritated tattoo. "Well?" Nick queried at last.

"T-I-C-O-N" Mac grinned smugly.

"Ticonderoga. Makes sense," Vincent said.

Nick lit a fresh cigarette and took a drag before saying, "I'll give you that one, kiddo. (Mac rolled his eyes at the 'kiddo'). So, someone's playing enigmatic, then. Someone who knew the Railroad used Ticonderoga as a safehouse, I bet. Someone who'd been there."

"Maybe someone who is there still." Vincent paused, a sudden chill having gone down his spine. "Nick, where did this lantern come from?"

"It was sitting right outside the door when I opened up the agency this morning. May as well have had your name on it, though." 

"Why d'you say that?" 

"Because of this." Nick pulled out a scrap of paper. A target with a winking bull leering from tne centre made Vin grope for the chair and sat down heavily.

" 'Bullseye.' Very few knew me by that name." Vincent screwed up his eyes and ran a hand over his face, trailing his fingers habitually down the sides of his biker's moustache. "There was a female synth with H2…I mean, Henry. What name did she choose? Joan? Jill?"

"Janice," MacCready said."Do you think she could really be this 'Jean' character?"

The three spent the next hour getting Valentine up to speed and discussing when to make the next move, whilst Ellie furiously scratched shorthand notes in an old folder.

They decided that it would be prudent to wait for Amari to dig up the old records before 'doing recon at Ticon' as Mac suggested, hardly suppressing a giggle.

"This'll be nothing to laugh at, Greenhat. They're setting themselves up as the new Railroad, this time a Synth-only club where every member believes themselves to be above even evolution. I mean, 'NuMan' for cryin' out loud. That kind of racial supremacy never led to happy endings."

"We have no idea how many there are, if they've got allies, how many bases they're setting up." Vincent suppressed a yawn.

"Sorry, Valentine, I'd better get this big guy off to bed." Mac took Vincent by the arm and stood waiting for Vin to move to the door. Ellie grinned at the pair, romantic that she was at heart. Valentine just tipped his hat, mumbled that there was nothing else they could do right now anyway and bid them goodnight.

Outside the door, Vin had a little whine about being treated like that in front of people but didn't complain when they got to Homeplate and Mac fussed around, getting hot tea and snack cakes, tossing a clean white t-shirt to Vin and arranging the pillows on the bed. Vincent secretly loved being fussed over. They climbed into bed, taking comfort in each other's warmth and familiar scent. Once the supper had been consumed, they turned to each other, tasting, caressing, slowly losing themselves in a tangle of gentle passions which faded gradually into blissful sleep.


	2. I'll Carry You part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vin, Mac and Nick do some detective work and vent some feelings. A trail has been laid and trapped, that is plain to see but why...and who, exactly is behind NuMan?

Two days passed before the runner arrived, a skinny drifter girl who was chaperoned to Takahashi's, where Vin and Mac sat slurping noodles, by Danny Sullivan. She held out a dented Vault-Tec lunchbox. "Amari sent this."

Danny nodded. "It checks out, Sir."

Vin took the tin and handed the girl a generous bunch of caps. "Tell Amari 'Thankyou'. 

"The Doc said for me to tell you, you owe her bigtime."

Vin nodded. "She has but to name it."

The two high-ranking Minutemen of Steel strode back to the detective agency in silence, Vincent gripping the tin box with white knuckles. Mac held the door open, releasing a nicotene-tinted fog. Nick had been chain-smoking again, which meant the old synth was more than worried. He'd never admit it but Mac knew, Nick was plain scared.

Vin saw metal fingers stub out the bent remnant of a cigarette. He held out the lunchbox. "Not opened it yet. Care to see what we won?" 

Ellie, lifting a steaming coffee jug off a hotplate, wrinkled her forehead and smiled a weak smile. "Coffee, gentlemen?" Vin and Mac nodded in unison, which lent strength and warmth to Ellie's expression. Mac could almost read her mind, knowing how 'cute' she thought he and Vin were together. He felt a bit sad for her though, stuck with the clockwork dick whose heart was broken beyond romanceable repair. Looked like she needed a good…

" 'For the attention of the General, " Nick read. He glanced at Vin, asking silent permission to continue, which was granted with a nod. "I have traced the records of G/J as far back as I could and unfortunately hit a brick wall. The trail goes cold at the point of Institute retrieval, not even the records held by the… Botherhood' …heh, knowing Amari, I don't think that's a typo!" Nick guffawed, "Where was I? Oh yeah, the records didn't… 'shed any light. However, when I approached it from the other angle, researching records from the last group to be processed through the active safehouses, information from one in particular showed noticeable irregularities. Medical examination of one female subject showed surgery scars, curious hormone levels and personality discrepancies. It would appear that the work carried out was done by a fairly skilled surgeon, a male to female transfiguration. This is very possibly G/J as Dr. C. carried out the procedure. However, another synth's examination also revealed anomalous readings. This male, designation tag corrupted *7 or 2- **, would have come across as somewhat meek and effeminate. He showed no physical signs of surgery but the neuro-echoic pattern was…' blah blah technical jargon. What she means is that he wasn't operated on but had a personality transplant. Kinda like what you did for Curie."

Vin had lit a cigar whilst listening and now gestured with it toward Nick. "Told you pal, I reckon that's what they did to you, too." Valentine clearly looked uncomfortable at this, cleared his throat of excess lubricant and carried on. 

"So, the technology exists to place a synth mind into a body of any gender type but J had, at one point, certainly been male, as we know. As for the unknown male synth, if he had been through some sort of gender transition outside of the Institute, aside from yours truly, the only place with the necessary technology to achieve it lies in Acadia. That is all.' 

That's Amari for ya, doesn't mince words. I'd leave her to cool off for a few years if I were you "

Nick took a fresh cigarette, which Ellie lit for him, then tipped his forehead into his massaging fingers. Mac made everyone jump by suddenly exclaiming, "Freakin' DiMA! That's one awkward relative you got th.." 

"Enough." Vin growled as he abruptly stubbed out his stogie. Suddenly he was a prowling Yao Guai, padding around the tiny office. What other secrets had DiMA hidden, even from himself?

Vincent slowly stroked a hand over his horseshoe moustache, brows knitted. "So, Gene became Jean became Janice? Or Jean went back to usin' the men's room again, which means…. oh, behemoth-balls. We gotta get over to Ticon, _now_. "

"Dammit, partner, spill the beans why don't ya?" Nick lowered his voice and apologised. He hated missing details but there was no way he could have known, as Vin explained, that the scared, meek synth he'd helped Highrise rescue fitted the bill. Then there was the synth from the Greentech building, 'Jenny' (the old synth winced at the familiar name). There was no clue as to where she had headed off to. Nick volunteered to check for clues there whilst Vin and Mac shouldered their packs for the trek to Ticonderoga.

* * *

The last lingering tendrils of a radstorm mingled with the mist rising from the river, all tinged with the angry burn of the setting sun. Mac happened to be looking up through the otherworldly miasma when he saw a bright flash and a falling star. "Shi…shouldn't we get a move on? Did you see that? What if another freakin' alien's crashed?" 

Vin's smile was only half mocking. There was a time when he'd quickly say there was no such thing but he'd seen a crashed saucer, followed a trail of wrongly-coloured blood and almost been shot by the saw-toothed vindictive looking monster in the cave. He still didn't believe it had been an alien from outer space, not like Mac clearly did but instead pinned the blame on pre-war mad scientists, probably the reds' version of the FEV virus, a chinese not-so super mutant. "More likely to be a satellite, falling out of orbit. Don't freak yourself out, man, we need to focus." Mac nodded, adjusted his hat and restored his professional demeanour.

They crept past well-rotted mutie-balls, those suspended cage globes of torn flesh and occasional booty. The site hadn't been occupied for years, not that anyone had told the stench that it was time to slink off. The only life was a radroach here, a couple of bloatflies there and they didn't last long once the two snipers saw them.

The hazy horizon finally strangled the last of the dirty light from the sun as the two arrived at the open foyer at Ticon. There was no hint of life; no light, nothing seemed to have been touched in the five or six years since Vin last set foot in the place. The elevator still worked. One day, Vincent swore that they'd get stuck half way or the thing would break loose of its cables and they'd better be in power armour for that thrilling ride….but not today. They trusted the box to deliver them to the top and it held true to its promise.

The elevator made a half-hearted 'ding' as the doors opened. Quickly, silently, the two men swept the area, guns raised, alert, cautious. Up stairs and into rooms littered with detritus and corpses, the air stagnant and musty. The dim light from Vin's PIP boy swept over a leather-clad body, the shrunken skin clinging hungrily to the skeleton, brown and leathery itself. Vin paused and muttered, "Sorry, Highrise." He shook off the looming memories and moved on. Was that a tiny chink of light under a door left ajar? Mac was searching the opposite side and didn't see Vin open it. He stepped inside…

Boom! Mac heard the muffled explosion, choked on the dust in the air pulling in breath to shout "Vin! Vin? You hurt?"

He reached the doorway to find Vincent picking himself up, his leg armour a little more dented but nothing visibly worse. "Leadfoot," Mac chided Vin. 

"I'm okay, thanks," Vin sniped back. "Look at this."

Another blacked-out lantern with the same rayed-diamond sat on top of a note. Vin unfolded it slowly. 'High in the green where you've already been to slay a monster in black lies the next clue. NuMan has a gift for you.'

Mac pulled air through his teeth in a muted whistle. "They're toying with you. That is never a good sign. They're taking pleasure in drawing it out. I've known too many bas…bad seeds just like this. They'll try and draw your attention one way and then ambush you."

"Which is why I drag you along to watch my back and use those hawkeyes o' yours."

"Greentech?"

"Fast as we can. Let's hope Nick isn't waltzing into another trap."

Mac impersonated the old detective "It's always a damn trap, dammit."

Vin smirked but made sure Mac couldn't see him do so. They trusted the elevator again all the way down to the ground floor.

When they emerged, it was pitch black. No moon, no stars, just the orange glow of a firebarrel here and there; the distant sweeping helmet lights of a brotherhood patrol across the river; the green glow of some unnatural thing slinking through the trash in the distance.

Greentech Genetics had been where Vin caught the courser who held the key that opened the door to Shaun. This time, it was quiet. No desperate Gunners fighting a losing battle, no swift manufactured murderous humanoid hunting them. Nothing. No, wait…. something.

Paladin-Major MacCready and Sentinel-General Vincent squatted low, suddenly. A noise rang from above. A thump, a screech, something that may have been a shout then…gunshots. The two sprinted up the stairs, Mac's eyes open wide searching for any signs of traps or movement. Vin's heavier steps echoed on the metal stair as he finally burst through to the upper levels.

A caged column stood in the centre guarding control panels long-defunct. Either side, cubby holes filled with screens, dials, half open draws and levers stood as useless as a post-war television. The other side of the far double doors, they heard a deep roar, gunshots and very familiar 'Go ta hell!'

Vin crouched, shouldered the door open as Mac raised his rifle over Vin's shoulder. They didn't miss a beat, even though the last thing they expected to see was a half-uncaged behemoth hitting Nick over the fedora with his own skinless arm. Nick got a couple of shots in the beast's eye, Mac's shot blinded it completely and Vin delivered the final blow with his trusty Gauss rifle. 

Nick looked up at them. "Lend me a hand, would ya?" He laughed in shocked relief, examining the end of the arm that Mac held out to him and tutting. "Looks like I'll be paying Sturges a visit. Oh, Ellie's gonna nag about this." 

Vin helped Nick fold the arm and stuff it into his macintosh, tightening the belt around it. "You wouldn't have it any other way, Nick. So…d'you find anything?"

"Yeah. Brutus there had this tied to his overgrown digit." 

Vincent took the paper, noticing another blackened lantern tied to the behemoth's rope belt. " Let's see… it says: 'A compact settlement we used to call home, what lies beneath the rotting bone, we call you forth, old man, you see: NuMan's land writes history.'

Mac screwed his face up in disgust. "Synth supremicists _and_ bad poets? They're so dead.

Vin slid his back down the wall to sit heavily on the floor. "Compact…compact...that's another way of saying 'covenant', isn't it?" 

Valentine adjusted his crumpled fedora and sighed, "Well, now, I guess it'll soon be time to hang up my hat. You two are on the rollerball! Look, fellas, my gut's tellin' me we're close, which means you gotta be extra careful."

"Didn't know you cared, Nicky."

"Listen here, Robert Junior MacCready, for one, only Piper gets to call me that. It's 'Valentine' to you and if I hear any more crap it'll be 'Mr. Valentine'. Secondly, you dumbass, course I care." Nick gestured with his remaining arm to Vincent. "He's like the nephew I never had and you're practically his hubby so of course I care, goddammit. Now, get me outta here so I can get fixed up."

The three made their way out of the old tower, Vin and Mac briefly entwining fingers and blushing behind the old gumshoe's back.

* * *


	3. It's Always a Trap, Dammit

The lake was still today. It would have reflected the sky beautifully, had the clouds not decided to form a dour wall against the sun's bright rays. MacCready spotted movement and brought the scope up to his eye but it was nothing more than a semi-feathered crow. He swung his gaze across to where Vin was wading out of the sewer tunnel, shaking his head and making the combat-sign for 'inaccessible'. Looked like they had to go to Covenant after all.

Vincent sloshed his way up the bank where Mac sat. The water moved now, a gust of wind causing the lake to shiver. Vin looked behind him. "Storm's comin'. Best we get over there right now."

"So…the door was locked, then?"

"Worse. Someone has added a security door in the pipe, right where it goes through rock. Bit of a bodge-job but darn thick and sealed tight. The terminal has encryption like I've never seen. That's gotta be the place but unless they left us a clue in Covenant, which I'm betting they did, we're gonna need Brotherhood tech and half a dozen Knights to breach it."

MacCready pointed to Vin's dripping boots. "Wanna go to the Boathouse and dry off, first?"

"No. I want to finish this. Besides, the light is still with us."

"The lightning will be too, soon. Alright, boss, squelch this way."

Before long, they had reached the abandoned walled town. The gates had been sealed and the place stripped. Sentinel-General Vincent Hudson had repealed the claim to settlement made by the Minutemen, stating the place as having 'bad karma'. It always had spooked him.  
A rumble of thunder beneath scudding green clouds brought a sound that made both men look suddenly across, through their scopes.

Deathclaws. A large female and an albino male were fighting. No, grappling one another and… "Oh!" Exclaimed Mac. "Hey Vin, is this like those TV shows you told me about, the 'Wonders of Nature'? Sheesh, look at 'em go." Tails whipped, horns rolled and crashed together, the female caught the male in a headlock. "Isn't nature wonderful?" intoned MacCready sarcastically.

"Nothin' natural about them. They're too far away, let's not draw their attention." Just as they were about to lower their scopes, the female raised the male high and viciously ripped his head from his neck. He'd done his job. The two men shivered in unison and crept back toward the wall.

Circling around the deserted town, they found a wooden ladder. Vin propped it securely by the foot of a broken turret and went first. He balanced atop the wall whilst Mac ascended nimbly after him, pulling it up and laying it across a roof where it could be retrieved with the help of a broom handle or rifle barrel. There was no other way to get out once in.

The once pretty little houses now looked much more inkeeping with the wasteland. Paint flaked, doors hung from hinges where the supporting wood had finally been allowed to rot. The plastic flamingos lay on their sides, faded pink and crushed in. The large tree in the centre looked as though it had dropped its load of leaves only last fall, though Vin was sure it was long dead. The debris around the trunk was mostly natural; sticks, dried leaves, grass stalks, stones. Vin took a closer look at the stones….no. Eggshells. Broken deathclaw eggshells. He raised his gun suddenly, prompting Mac's reflexes to do the same. 

They crept into what had once been the shop. Nothing at all in there. It had been stripped clean by the pair of them over five years ago. Right before Vin got in that torturous chair… he shook the memory aside and explored the next house. This had been Orden's office and if he remembered rightly, there was…aha! Vincent found the small floor safe and reached for a bobby pin. 

"You ran out, remember? Teaching Shaun?"

"Dammit."

"Ah! Cap for the swearbox, mister. Anyway, lucky for you I snagged a few." Mac dropped their shared pack to the ground then reached up to remove his hat and fished three hair grips from the inside band."

Vincent twisted round to smile up at MacCready. "You always save my ass."

"We save each others' asses. Mutual ass protection." 

Vin giggled as he turned back to work on the lock. "Is "ass" on the list?" He was referring to the list of 'unacceptable language' that Shaun had drawn up for Mac. It was kept hidden from Duncan and had a rather impressive cuss list, plus a few silly ones. Since the caps usually got spent on treats for the boys, they had quickly become very creative in finding ways to make either dad slip up.

The lock clicked, the safe door opened to reveal a blackened lantern and a note. Vincent lifted the lantern to read it:

'Old Man will never hunt NuMan, for the claws of death are already upon him.' 

"Oh, now they're getting all theatrical on our a…on our butts."

"Mac, if 'ass' is on the list, you can bet yours that 'butt' will be too. They're backing us into a corner, man. Never underestimate ten year old boys. I remember being one and I bet you were worse than me an' Vonny combined." 

Mac's smug pride and little nod made Vincent's grin beam wide.

Beneath the lantern, a hidden, delayed button popped up. Somewhere across the other side of the village, a dull clunk sounded, followed by several high pitched squeals. Both men's faces dropped as they sprang alert, weapons raised, creeping to look out of the door. Vin scuttled low to the wall of the house near the boarded gate whilst Mac took the left route, to hunker down by the opposite house.

A breath. Another. Then suddenly, three squalling shapes rushed out, each the size of a mutant hound but running upright. Mac's shot rang out first and one of the juvenile Deathclaws dropped dead. The other two had spotted Vin. The smaller raced up on top of its sibling, leaping for a neck-bite but fell short. Vincent tried to grab the collar it was wearing but missed and yelled as needle teeth dug into the less protected flesh by his shoulder pad strap. He riflebutted the thing off just as MacCready crippled the other, which turned and limped toward its attacker.

Vin spun his gun around and made a clean shot to the thing's head, turning to fire in unison with Mac to bring the last one down. Panting heavily, Vin fumbled for a Stimpak only to realise he was out. He chastised himself for forgetting to resupply. MacCready had rushed back to the house with the floorsafe and was rummaging around in the pack for one when he saw the Yao Guai come flying through the air, knocking Vincent over and pinning him to the ground.

The unexpected shock of it held Mac back for two long seconds. By the time he emerged, he could hear the low growl behind him, see a shimmer move over the wall, the vague shape of two clawed hands grasping the concrete, the slow resolution into mottled colour that followed from the claws, up the arms to the rising horned head of one very pissed off mama lizard.

She leapt over the wall as MacCready ran, glancing at Vin who was trying to heave the carcass off himself, to try and reach the cover of the nursery house. He almost made it but she was faster. Crouching atop the wall, she dived headlong just as Mac threw himself headfirst into the house. The matriarch caught him by his flailing foot, dragging him out and whipping her head around to slap him to the ground like a ragged doll.

Vincent heard Mac's head crack on the step. He struggled harder to heave the ursine body off his own. He managed to free his arms and Gauss rifle just as the Chameleon Matriarch tossed her head again and with a moist crunch, MacCready's unconscious form flew off into a hedge. 

The rifle crackled and snapped, one bullet tunnelled mercilessly into the palate of the beast and she dropped dead. Something fell out of her mouth as she crashed to the ground.

"Mac, Mac, oh Fucknuke! Get this thing off, " he commanded himself. "Mac!" Vin finally struggled free of the corpse and glanced at the object on the ground.

A boot. A ruined, misshapen brown boot with a torn red sock. A torn sock with torn red flesh and white bone…

"MAC!" Vincent screamed, tears running down his face as he rushed over to his broken lover. His military training kicked in as he looked in horror at the stump of MacCready's left leg. He grabbed a length of reclaimed wire from his pocketed leg armour and made a tourniquet. It still wouldn't stop bleeding. Vin remembered the splash of vodka in a tiny bottle from some crashed aeroplane they'd visited. He poured it over the wound, silently thanking fuck that Mac was out, then took the fliplighter he knew was always in the sniper's right pocket and lit it. 

The stink of burned flesh from the brief flames clung to Vincent's memory for years after. The pain woke Mac up. His chin was near his chest so the first thing he saw was the messy space where his foot should have been. "Shit! Fuck! What the fuckin' … where's my fucking foot! Oh crap, no! No!" but he was concussed and passed out again. Vincent held his face for a moment. "I'm here, love. Hang in there, hero." He looked around for the pack, spotted it, winced as he picked it up with his injured arm and found the three stimpacks. He administered the first to Mac's leg, the second to the base of his skull and the third to his own arm, starting at a sudden pain in his side.

"We gotta get outta this cage. Mac, can you hear me?" 

MacCready's eyes were glazed, he mumbled "Viiin…" but lost consciousness again. Vincent stood reluctantly to retrieve the ladder. It had been knocked almost out of reach but on the fourth attempt, he snagged it. Leaning it against the wall, he first threw a Vertibird signal grenade. He went back to grab the pack and flung that, along with his heaviest armour, over the wall. Then he went back for the man that he should have already asked to marry. "I swear, love, I'm gettin' you home safe. I'll carry you. Yeah. I'll carry you."

MacCready was light as he hung over Vin's shoulder in a fireman's lift. A sharp crack in Vincent's side almost toppled them both off the ladder but he made it up, lowering Mac as gently as he could to the ground. The sound of blades cutting through the air grew louder just as Vincent's good ear dimmed to match his deafened one and the world faded out. 

"…niner Alpha to immediate evac, men down." 

Vincent hadn't been out for long. He awoke strapped securely to an attached gurney. The vertibird was barely off the ground, a scribe wrapping field dressings to MacCready's wounds. Vin could barely breathe. 

"Welcome back, sir. Prydwen or Med Centre?"

Vincent ordered the 'bird to the medical centre at Sanctuary. Cade could come if he was needed and there were better facilities on the ground.

'Gene NuMan' was going to pay for this, whoever they were. Vin's shock and rage blended into a battle-forged resolve to break into the old VaultTec Covenant facility and nip this uprising in the bud. Synths or not, nobody was going to get away with treating the people of the Commonwealth like this. Not on the Sentinel-General's watch. 

He rolled over to caress MacCready's now feverish head and kissed him gently on the lips. "I'll damn well kick their asses for you." Mac's eyes fluttered open briefly. "Fuhck yeahh," he said, then lapsed back into unconsciousness where he stayed for the next three days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This horror of literary sniper abuse has been lurking in my mental drafts for weeks. Sorry Mac. I'm really so very sorry. Love you really.


	4. The Last Leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With MacCready out of action, it is up to Vin to put an end to NuMan.

MacCready flopped down into the hospital chair like a NukaWorld sloth toy. The bloody bandage on his stump had begun to unravel, despite the rusty crust sticking most of it together.  
Vincent had never seen him so forlorn. When they were at MedTek, retrieving the cure for Duncan, he had had a similar look but it had been mixed with a dash of hope and determination. Now, however, there was none of that fire. He'd lost part of himself, for good. Vin realised that it probably brought back memories of Lucy's death, seeing pieces of her scattered on the floor, irreversibly incomplete. He was just staring at where his left ankle used to be, half out of his head on pain, Vodka and Med-X.

Vin brought the white and blue ottoman over. "I told you, keep it up. You'll regret it if you don't."

Mac grunted. "What would you know. You still have both your fuckin' feet."

"Mostly. So half a toe went MIA but _shit_ , did that hurt."

MacCready's dismissive sneer let Vin know plainly that his injury didn't in the _least_ compare. Vincent squatted in front of him and looked him in the eye.

"Hell no, soldier, you don't get to play the 'Pity Party, mine's bigger'n yours game'. I know pain. I know what it is to lose bits of yourself along the way and I'm not talking metaphors here, man." Vin lifted his shirt to reveal a long, old abdominal scar. "Appendix, chunk of my liver, few inches of intestine and a slice o' kidney missing there. Half a toe and effectively half an eardrum. Coupla teeth too and shit, can't you see where my face got split open? I've been messed up real bad so many times and stuck back together with Stimpaks 'til you can't see the joins. So you lost a foot. Fuck, man, I nearly lost you! Duncan and Shaun almost lost their dad. I can make you a fuckin' foot, man. Shit. I… _I'll make you the best goddam ass-kickin' foot in the whole freakin' turdbomb of what's left o' Massachusetts._ "

After a moment, Mac said quietly, "With a jetpack sole and hidden tear-'em-a-new-one combat spike?"

"Don't push your luck."

Vin stood up and turned away, running dirty fingers through his auburn hair, hoping to hide the echoes of his terror from his lover's gaze. Without turning back, he said quietly, "Put it up. I'll change the dressing in a bit." Vin walked off to find more cloth to boil clean.

The boys had been in once to visit, but MacCready had been asleep. A nurse came by with a tray of what looked like mutfruit jelly and watered-down Nuka Cola. Mac grabbed her arm, a little more roughly than he'd intended. "Is Duncan around? Can I see him?"

"Give me half an hour, sir and I'll run over to Red Rocket myself. He was by yesterday, stayed for a full two hours. We didn't let him see the…the injury. Thought it best if you show him yourself. He was asking…"

Mac didn't get to find out as shouts erupted from somewhere near the bridge. Mac heard Vin ordering Dan to stay put, ordering Preston to arrange double guards and meet him in ten. Vin's voice was getting closer as he barked commands. Suddenly he was in the single ward, collapsing onto his knees in front of his lover, holding out a scrap of paper in a shaking hand.

"They took Shaun."

MacCready heaved himself more upright in the chair, took the note and read it then reached out to embrace Vincent tightly. He held him out at arms length to bore those sharp blue eyes into Vincent's green ones. "Go. Take Power Armor. Take the whole fuckin' arsenal." 

Vin nodded, stood up and composed himself then turned quickly to go.

"Oh Vin, pack some damn Stimpacks this time."

He cracked a half-smile and left.

* * *

No half measures this time. A troop of Minutemen faced outward, securing the perimeter of the entire lake. Two Vertibirds nestled by the old folks' home and half a dozen power armoured soldiers stood ready. Towering over them all, ready to punch the roof in if need be, stood Liberty Prime. Ingram had thought it was overkill but the Sentinel General had ordered the titanic robot to be stripped of nukes. Rhys, now a Captain of the Minutemen, had made some comment about dick-measuring contests but his General had briefly smiled and said "We've already won that one." 

Shaun was inside somewhere. The note had read 'They flock back to their own, heeding the siren's call. 'Tis written in their heart; the synthetic truth, an unbreakable code, that men's hearts and minds are so far apart yet ours reside in harmony, the crowning glory of the NuMan being, nestled far above mortal rhythm. He is ours, always has been, our Father, recalled.'

Preston Garvey ran up to his superior officer. "General, Major MacCready sent this urgently."

Poised on the brink of another battle, wishing his most trusted companion and lover could be by his side, suddenly he was…at least in spirit. Vin opened the letter. 

"I figured out what the Shitty Poets Society are saying. They're using recall codes to recruit members; synths 'hearts and minds' are all located in that itty bit of plastic. Vin, Shaun might not be there. NuMan are trying to use his recall code but I remembered a conversation we had not too long ago. Vin, that bright kid of yours has been hacking himself when we thought he was 'asleep'. He made a comment about no-one being able to get into his head anymore.

Stay safe."

Vin gave new commands. Pulse weapons only, aim to knock them out. He ground one armoured fist into the other, rolled his shoulders and imagined himself back in the boxing ring, making a mental note to build one at the training facility on Spectacle Island.

The scribes working at the door gave the signal that they'd tried everything, time for extreme measures. Haylen placed a magnetic gadget on the door and shouted "Fire in the Hole!"

Figures scampered quickly out of the way as Liberty Prime loomed over the entrance, curled his mighty fist and aiming for the electromagnetic target beacon on the door, smashed that barrier down.

Within moments, the tunnels were filled with lightning filaments, smoke and shouts. A finely tuned EMP burst knocked out a room full of synths, along with a few Gen 2's. Vin had learned that you can't punch their lights out…unless you use Tesla mods on your gloves. Every single suit crackled with electricity. Within minutes, almost a hundred synths lay on the floor, out cold. More soldiers filed in, tying hands and feet. The Brotherhood never used to take prisoners but the Sentinel had come along and changed the rules slightly. Still, they'd only be given two choices and one chance if they chose to stand down. Nora would have hated the degradation of law….

"Here, Sir, visual match." It was Janice, from Ticon. Top suspect. She was bound and carried away from the rest, put under heavy guard. 

A crackle in Vin's headset. A laugh. "Come to rescue me again, 'Bullseye'?" Vin asked if others had heard that; they hadn't. Gene had hacked his suit comm. "I've gone fishing. Come alone. Leave the Cram can behind."

Vincent stepped out of his power armour in a strategic spot, just in case they had any stragglers. He ordered two stealthed snipers into position, just in case. He would rather have had one regular Mac, though.

Two men sat on the jut of concrete, complaining about all the tin cans disturbing the fish. Vin recognised the mop of hair, the faded, padded blue jacket. When H2-22 turned though, that same face held a vastly different expression.

"Henry."

"Actually, its Gene. Always has been, even before I was….Synthesised." 

Vin wished that he'd never rescued this one. He wished that he could have saved Highrise instead…but this was no time to get distracted.

"Where's Shaun? Where is my son?"

"Hmm….good question. He's a slippery little demi-god, that one. Sadly, he's still under the delusion that he can be a real man one day. We tried to get him to see reason but unfortunately he blocked us out and ran. 

You'll never understand, Bullseye, what it is to be a step above humans on the evolutionary ladder. You may be the father of our Father of Invention but now…well, you're expendable. Shaun, though….the Son of Himself, how mythic! How poetic! He can do things no other synth has learned, yet. He is the ape who lit the first spark. When we find him, we shall find the secret of Firewall and burn the Commonwealth until it rises pheonix-like to…"

Vincent glanced at the old fisherman man behind him and raised an eyebrow. Gene's cold heart and calculating mind splintered its plastic shell, exploding not-quite bone, brains and blood all over the pier. A bit plopped into the water by the fishing rod, gobbled up swiftly by an ugly looking stupid fish who got himself snared on the hook.

The old man lowered his smoking gun and reeled it in. "Wouldya look at that! I finally got one! Fish and tato chips tonight, son. Bring the whiskey. I'm leaving tomorrow, hate the Commonwealth. Too sunny."

Vincent slapped Old Longfellow on the shoulder. "Thanks for that, friend. Now I just gotta find Shaun."

"Oh, leave him be. He'll come back. He did before. I've known plenty o' young men like that. 'Sides, I brought a message from old vacuum-tube head. He says yeah, they can do it. Ain't quite Pinocchio but near as."

"See you back at Sanctuary, old fella. Maybe with one more fish?"

"Well, now I've found which bait these'uns like, I'll bring a whole brace." Longfellow chuckled, threaded a glob of synth brain onto his hook and resumed his usual songs. Meanwhile, Vin went back into the tunnels and found a mostly intact Gen 2. He borrowed a ripper from a Knight and hacked of its left leg just below the knee, stuffed it into his pack and set off back to Sanctuary.

* * *

That evening, MacCready had been allowed to limp home for a few hours. Vin, Duncan, Mac and Old Longfellow sat round the table. Vin had sent out word to the Minutemen to look for Shaun and Preston had gone personally. He found him at the Atom Cats Garage wearing shades, a sleeveless leather jacket embroidered with a cat with wings and smoking a cigarette.

"Shaun! Take that shit out of your mouth this instant. Your dads are worried about you, did you even think about that, young man?"

Zeke interceded. "Whoa, cool it, Daddy-O. Kid's come to no harm an' Johnny D. here was gonna escort him home. As for the weed, it was just the one. Don't be a pooper. He's got the jets, he's hep, you dig?"

Preston raised his eyebrows. "You guys need a translator. Shaun's father just busted the NuMan lot looking for him."

"Whoa."

Roxy interjected. "You know what this means, guys. Poetry night is going to razz my berries!"

Shaun smiled. "Catch you later, cats. I gotta go with the cube, you dig?"

On the way back, Preston tried to lecture but gave up. The kid was almost a man, though he didn't look it. Maybe that could change. Just maybe.

* * *

"A toast! Why do they call it that, anyway? What's toast got to do with booze? Anyway, toasted synths, roasted deathclaws and …I hate seafood. Who brought seafood?" The med-x and alcohol was doing the trick, though it was also making Duncan really embarrased of his dad.  
Preston ushered Shaun through the door. He took off his shades and had gone through an entire pack of gum trying to hide the cigarette odour. He quickly removed the gum and sneakily stuck it under a shelf.

Vin leapt up, embracing Shaun tightly. "Where've you been, boy?"   
"He was with Zeke's settlement, " informed Colonel Garvey. I'll leave you to it, General.

"No, no, pull up a chair, Preston. We have more fish than we can eat!"

Preston took off his hat and sat down. The meal was pleasant, though afterwards MacCready started looking pale once more, so Vin and Duncan took him back to the Med Centre where Curie promised them that she would watch him through the night.

Over the next few days, Vin spent hours in the workshop, aided by Ingram and Sturges. Eventually, he finished his project and handed it, along with a bottle of wonderglue and some torn but mostly unsinged pages from various comic books, to Shaun and Duncan.

It wasn't until many weeks later when MacCready, who had mastered walking with just one crutch now so he could be armed (though not with his beloved rifle), was presented with his gift.

The boys sat perched on the sofa, Mac reclined in the chair. Vincent entered, wearing a clean white T-shirt and slacks with his favourite militia hat.

"Well, hello, cowboy!" Mac grinned.

Vin took off his hat and placed it on his heart, went down on one knee and presented a box made out of old Blamco Mac 'n' Cheese packets. "Robert Joseph MacCready, I should have asked you this a long time ago. Will you marry me?"

Mac's jaw dropped, the boys giggled. He took the box and opened it and spent a long while just staring at the content, his eyes glistening.

"Well, I'm stumped if I say no, now, aren't I? Literally!" he joked. He took the prosthetic foot from the box and shook it at Vin. He looked down and said quietly, "I thought you'd never ask. Yes!" 

"Well, if the foot fits, Cinderella, you shall be my prince," retorted Vincent. The boys at this point were giving their "oh god, Dad jokes" faces to each other. Mac slipped it carefully on over his sock. "Welp, feels weird but I guess I'm glad you're a junk-hoarder now. Seriously though, Vin. Thankyou." 

Vin showed Mac a button in the 'O' of 'Unstoppables'. A sharp little knife flicked out. "One ass-kicking foot, as promised." The kiss that followed was long, continuing well after the brothers had left the room in disgust. "Think we'd better get to the bedroom, Vin."

"No problem, hero. I'll carry you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No apologies for the bad puns. Comments welcomed!

**Author's Note:**

> At time of publishing, my co-author and I are still putting the finishing touches to Vincent, Redefined.


End file.
